History of Legion of Amun Ra

[Maokhan]

The hot humid air beat against Kashta as she examined the wares brought before her, thunder rumbling in the distance. Forced inactivity had made her irritable and she took it out on the man behind the table, throwing him out into the sun while she looked over his goods in the more comfortable trade house.

She sighed, rubbing the fleshy part of her shoulder with her good hand. Her right hand. The left one..along with her arm, all the way up to her elbow...had turned grey and leaden, as hard as any stone. A sling held it cradled against her waist, and distributed the weight at least a little, enough to keep her from lurching around like a diseased begger. That, along with what had happened with Keltin, and the Elkhorns in general; well it was just better to stay here in Abydos until Almarus was found.

Something flitted at the edge of her awareness....something dead. She looked up, vague disquiet turning into sudden alarm at the sight of several hooded corpses rushing towards her.

Not hers. Not anyone's she recognized, but still they were almost on her...five? six? She scrambled inside her mind for the connection, for the bond that always existed in some form or other between her and the dead, but she could barely do more than sense them before they were on her.

Many of her magics were denied her due to her arm. She was vulnerable. The city should have been safe....and something else was leeching at her. She looked to the entryway, unsurprised to see a robed, cowled man there, energy almost visibly pooled around him as he continued to attack her.

It was an almost pathetically short fight, and left Kashta uninjured but sitting propped up against the wall, drained of energy. Inside she seethed, impotent rage beating to be let out, to be given a way to act; outwardly she was cold, calm. Almost sneering as she spoke.

"Who are you?"

One of his hands was bare, the other one had talons attached in much the same fashion as her favorite gloves. He touched her cheek with that hand, the talon cool on her skin. "I understand you've been looking for me?"

She clenched her jaw. Locust, it had to be. His finger continued in it's caress of her cheek, cold spreading out from the spot, freezing her body in place before she was aware of what he was doing.

He tapped her nose with a taloned fingertip. "Nice to finally meet you, Kashta." A smile curved his lips as she struggled against his spell, sweat beading on her forehead as a small sound escaped her throat. "Summoning your Hounds?"

The ice couldn't hold her, not for long. She took it, absorbed it and let it work through her body, feeling the reluctant movement of her chest as she inhaled. Glaring at him was easier, and she forced words past shivering lips. "Why ask me?"

"Yes, why ask you?" He lowered his voice a notch, uttering incoherent words that set the ground to shifting around them, words that pushed against Kashta. Pressure built around her, more and more until her body was swallowed up by it, disappearing into the hazy air. Her clothing and other items were left behind, slumped in the same position she'd been sitting in, and dustmotes danced in the suddenly mobile air as Locust collected his corpses and left.

*********************

The soft whisper of a page turning woke Kashta, and she opened her eyes.

Kashta was sitting at a table across from the same cowled man, in what seemed to be a small library. A short robe kept her from being naked, though it was nothing like her normal clothing...it'd been years since she'd had anything so close to being a rag. She looked around at the room, taking note of the odd lighting, taking her time before she spoke. "Where is this place?"

He continued to read, his eyes darting across the page as he spoke. "Beyond the mist. Between the world you know and another."

Kashta grimaced. Lovely, more riddles. Sounded like something Arwyne would say....if Arwyne were speaking of the Abyss, perhaps? Interesting, it was possible. Unlikely, but possible. "Why bring me here? Why not just kill me?"

The book closed with a quiet rustle and he set it in his lap, finally looking up at her. "Death is the last step in the series of things someone can do to get what they want."

"Then what is it you want from me?"

"We'll get to that." He smiled politely, pouring himself a glass of wine, gesturing to it when he was done. "Something to drink?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not?"

Silence reigned as he poured her a glass and slid it across the table to her, and she lifted it to sip at cautiously before he spoke. "Do you know who I am?"

Hmm. "You're the Locust, yes?" She grimaced at his nod, and tried to see more clearly into the shadows cast by his hood. "What is it you want?"

He turned deftly. "Plantain? They're in season in Khitai. Fresh, I just plucked them today."

She shook her head, drinking her wine, and pushed on. "Why've you been interfering with what we've been doing with the relics?" Her jaw clenched involuntarily as he picked up the libram from his lap, opening it up to where he'd left off. No word was spoken as he turned a page and ignored her.

All right. Kashta stood up, sauntering over to a nearby bookcase, her steps precise, angry. Her stoned arm made a soft thud as she leaned against the shelf, and she picked up random scrolls and tomes, moving them about.

He spoke without looking up. "I suggest the one on religion. It's a good one, funny almost."

She dropped a scroll, letting it fall to the floor and ignoring it as she picked up another. Her voice sounded almost bored as she let that one slip through her fingers as well. "I'll keep that in mind."

The soft rustle of a page turning, and he spoke again. "Most of that is old, dusty even."

Ah...her fingers curled around a tome, picking it up. It was almost too heavy for her one hand to lift but she managed, moving up behind him as he sipped his wine and flipped to another page. She lifted it high and brought it down hard, putting her body into it.

The man raised his hand and the book stopped, her body straining to make the book finish it's descent. "You have fight in you, that's good." He flicked his wrist and her body turned, her hand going automatically to the wall now in front of her.

"Bah, Set take you, why are you doing this??" She heard the pleading note in her voice and gritted her teeth.

He set the book back on the table and moved behind her, his legs brushing up against the backs of hers. "Why am I doing what?"

"Taking me, keeping me here." The feel of him behind her was too much, and she started to turn around, only to be stopped by another of his gestures. Her feet slid further apart on the floor.

"Hmmm, you have a lot of questions."

"Of course I do."

He leaned into her, inhaling the scent of her hair. "Of course." He laughed. "You like to question people, no?"

He was near enough that when she turned her head, their mouths were almost close enough to kiss. A disturbingly intimate pose, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat before she spoke. "I'm good at it."

"What makes you think that?" Another gesture and both of her hands went to the wall, flat palmed, her stone hand still hard and grey but in a different position now.

She shivered, leaning in closer to the wall, trying to move away from him. He moved with her. She sighed. "I always get answers...maybe not right away, but eventually everyone talks to me."

He pulled his head away from her with a laugh. "And what if they never talk?"

"I haven't had that happen to me yet."

He ran a taloned fingertip up the back of her leg, letting it linger just under the meaty part of her ass. Kashta went still, not breathing for a moment. When she spoke there was a catch in her voice. "I didn't imagine you to be the type to kidnap women. Somehow, I thought you would stay more to the shadows, be more subtle."

A laugh rumbled in his chest, against her back. "I am the shadow." His finger pressed forward, the talon piercing her skin, blood spurting out to run down the back of her leg. She hissed, her jaw clenched at the pain, as he went on. "A shadow can betray it's owner's motions."

Her voice was strained. "And who is your owner, then?"

Another finger pierced the skin of her leg next to the first one, and she bit off a curse as he toyed with her flesh. A pained noise escaped her when he pulled his fingers free, the barbed tips catching her on their withdrawal and warmth slid down the back of her leg with nothing to block it now. Ignoring her question, he asked, "Are you fond of pain, Kashta?"

She hesitated. There were so many ways to answer that question. Her voice was wary when she answered. "I'm fond of giving it..."

"So, pain of flesh eludes you then?"

"I don't know what you mean."

But of course she did.

He lifted his fingers to her mouth, stroking her lower lip with the still-wet tips. "Taste your own blood, then, as you so fondly taste of others." Kashta could see his eyes glinting from the shadows of his hood, the hint of a smile as she licked the talons clean. The man went on, his voice just a whisper. "You've spent a lifetime preying on people to make them beg you for mercy. Now it's your turn."

She laughed once, a humorless sound. "You know nothing of me Locust, if you think I haven't done my share of begging for mercy." Her lips curved up in a slight smile as she held his gaze. "But it's prepared me for much."

[[ nothin y'all wanna see ]]

Kashta sagged against the wall. Her voice, when it came, was ragged, hoarse. "And what was that meant to prove?"

The man took his seat again, opening the libram where it lay before him. He didn't speak.

After a few minutes, she took a tome from the shelf next to her and sank into a nearby chair, unable to stand any longer. With a resigned sigh, she started reading as well.

[Maokhan]

his story takes place after Bad Moon Rising and runs parallel and beyond The Epitaph and The Reckoning.

The Serpent Stirs

"grant me life eternally"


---

He stalks through the tall grass, the moonless night offering not a single glimpse of the overpass. He has found himself in these fields, on this night, with purpose. Everything has it's price, and every debt must be paid.

Two weeks prior he stood over the ravaged body of his queen, her last breaths coming quickly. He had but one choice to make, one last decision to impart on his people. His life, his fortune...for hers. He had made it clear to her, the prior evening as they looked out on his valley, that his time here would be short..but that her's would be everlasting. Then, as he stood over her watching the priests give last rites and do what they could to stop the bleeding, he left her side. He traveled the mountainside, calling out the Crow's name. Then and there, he traded his life for hers.

There was slight confusion in the aftermath of what was done. The debt was his life for her's. That he paid. The circumstance of her arrival to that forbidden temple, no one knew. It was not his doing, but the doing of the child. With all his grace and might, that child carried her to the temple steps...where he laid her out for the Crow...where he placed the mans helm and weapons out as the last epitaph of the sands.

Now the man walked between the veil, in the fabled City of Shadows. He witnessed his life flash before his eyes. The destruction, good and bad. The burning of cities, his and others. He watched as his men and women triumphed and fell. He watched the death of his love, over and over, in a painful memory of all debts to be paid. There he was dead, but here he was something else entirely.

[Maokhan]

The barn stood defiant in the field, the overrun grass beating against it's stature. He pushed aside the door, it's remarkable heft straining against the unwanted entry. The structure itself seemed to sway as he entered. The wooden beams creaked and crackled. Finally, as if on cue, the moon made it's appearance from behind the dark clouds. It's blue hue offered a glimpse into the barn; it offered a chance to see what waited for him.

Here in this barn he was not alone. The beams, that creaked and cracked in the still night, supported another body that swayed from a long rope. The twine wrapped around it's neck, the bodies head slumped forward. This man, this hanging statue, found his final resting place in this empty barn in the middle of this empty field. As he walked up to it, the air chilled...the ground becoming crisp at the edges. His silent reverie was broken with a gasp of air as he turned the body around.

That night, in this barn that sat in the empty field, the man stared at his own body swaying from the rafters. For him, it was easier to believe in the sweet madness then the glorious sadness of what was in front of him. He fell to his knees as the world froze around him and the shadows enveloped him.


---

"We think ourselves masters of the world, but we are only prey.", the voice would say. "Life is a short trip, a journey that begins incomplete and ends with even more questions.", it would continue. He stirred, his eyes blinded by the darkness and his body restrained by the chill that surrounded him. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping beyond hope that it would reveal his placement. The voice would echo through the chamber, "Death is but a new beginning, a new hope, a new path..a new destiny". The man sat up, finding himself without normal restraints. He moved about, scooting around as he had no will to stand. The darkness that blinded him encompassed the entirety of his scope, offering no end to it's start. He would ask in a raspy voice, "Memkhet? Locust...?".

There would be nothing but silence.

[Maokhan]

Her face pressed hard on the flagstones, blue eyes looking across the dirty floor towards the cooling crimson pool, blood, her blood.

Her life's blood.

She hadn't thought he would do it, not when he had once pledged to her that he owed her for saving Lunette's life. She had drawn his anger, thought that in so doing she could spare Kashta... that he would hold back from striking her.

Fragile.

She had been too fragile to come here, the act of keeping her body alive day on day had been draining there had been no reserves, no tolerance for further damage. The moment Amaroq had hit her, as she felt ribs shatter to his fury she had known that it was over.

She felt the cold sweeping through her.

The faces came to her then. Paks and Arrax, Poe and Rhune; Nuashti and Tari... Tari... she wondered if her sister would ever know? *she closed her eyes a moment, breath now painful. Lara and Feather? what of them? Or Star and the baby?

Gwen....... her heart broke. There had been a time when she had feared that most of all, to watch Gwen die while she lived on without her. Even now the thought of separation tore at her heart. She wept, silently as the cold crept through her.

The priest, the Assuran was sayings something... calling on a god that she knew would forsake her. He was there... she need only reach out and touch him... steal from him that which was immortal, save her life by stealing his.....

But she couldn't.....

Above the storm clouds were building, she could see the veil pealing back, the limitless black expanse of the void reaching out to welcome her home.

Irima... her handmaiden waiting patiently by the portal to shepherd her home.

Beyond... in the darkness. Eternity was waiting.

And she joined it.

[Maokhan]

The stygian hospital of Set got the call moments after her death text and pvp exp showed up in gobla. As white wagon races through the purple lotus swamp Thunderbelly could only think of how his new tos powers would come in handy.
He had finaly gotten a skill to rez people and was dying to use it. As they aproched the gate the young slave boy who had been hanging onto the back of the cart coughed from screaming sounds of "wee" and "wooo" for too long. It has been a long ride but thunderbelly knew he could do it.

" OPEN THE GATES WE ARE HERE TO REZ THE DEAD!" He called out. But there was no answer.

" HELLO?" He called out again and this time a small man poked his head over the top of the wall and looked down at them with wonder in his eyes.

" Wha yu want noob?" the man spit to the side.

" Arwyne is dead, we are here to rez her." The man looked down at them then back into his guilds city with a sense of ugency on his face before looking down at them again."

" Nope sorry. No one is home or here by that name. If you wish to leave your name and..."

"Dude!" Thunderbelly stood up and shook his fist at the man. Come on stop messing around a life has be lost to the RP of this server, a very important life!"

The man looked back then down agian.

" Afk."

Thunderbelly cursed to himself as the man pretended to not hear his cries. It was to late, Arwyne would have loged and the role players would have had another blow to their already dying community.

[Maokhan]

The Canary Effect

"Here's my situation, for all the world to see. Gone is my innocence, all that is left is me."

"The Perfect Stranger"

The water was warm. The body floated on it's surface, micro-bubbles swirling in the macro-bath. The heavy Stygian sun beat down on the pool, it's crystal clear water showing off it's contents for all the heavens to see. The fish swam about, unaware of the body laying face down on the roof of their world. What was it like being a fish? Swimming around all night and day, spitting out little pockets of air-bubbles. Your very body the only thing that keeps you under-float. Or is it reverse afloat? Maybe it's just afloat. Was it a strange occurrence to have brother-fish or sister-fish to disappear? Did they worry about that? Did they send little fish search parties out looking for their lost loved ones? Did they love? Did they just accept it as fate, and wait to be delivered unto it?

The body stirred and thrashed in the water. It came out of the surface, the beads of water trickling from it's head, the still body of water ripped apart by the movement. It gasped for breath, filling it's lungs with the sweet air. It held, triumphantly, the trophy of it's patience. A gray-scaled fish flopping about in it's grasp, it too gasping for air, it too struggling.

The boy stepped on the beach. He shook off the water from his body, like an animal. He smiled brightly as he dropped the fish into the bucket. Ah, the bucket. What majesty awaits inside of a bucket. Sometimes you were surprised by it's contents, but more often than not the majestic bucket was filled with the dregs of whatever disgusting by-product came forth in ones cleaning routine. The fish flopped around in the bucket, beginning the dance of death. It thrashed about, as the boy steadied the bucket. He didn't particularly care for sandy-fish. He was rather fond of the non-sand variety.

The woman laid spread out on the sand. Her dark skin glistening in the sun. She sat up, her eyes watching the boy. She smiled, a proud smile, her white teeth sparkling.

"What do you have there, Almarus?"

The boy turned and looked at his mother.

"Fishes." He nodded quickly in his acceptance of what he had in his bucket.

She offered a smile, and a slight nod to her son. "It's fish."

Almarus stood straight and tall. "Oh. Fish then."

[Maokhan]

Story One: Tigers Don't Smile

The woman poked him. "Little one?", she questioned him.

Almarus sat in a daze, his body leaning against the table. "Its fish.", he said matter-of-factly coming out of his day-dream.

"What's fish?", she asked.

Almarus shook the haze from his head. He was staring into the alcove where a small woman and a large man sat. He watched them curiously as they played with eachothers hair, gently caressing eachothers skin.

"What's Azure?", Almarus asked the woman sitting at the table with him.

"It's a color, like blue.", she answered him.

Almarus nodded, "Blue, why she not say blue then?"

The woman smiled from behind her glass. She takes a drink from it, setting it down on the table. Almarus turned in his seat, facing his company.

"Tigers don't smile. They can't. Tigers can't smile.", he says looking down at the tables contents. He picks up a g**** and stares at it a moment before putting it back on it's tray.

The woman just laughs. "Maybe they can?", she playfully suggests.

"No. No they can't.", Almarus says shaking his head.


----------

He climbed up the ladder like a cat climbing a tree. He walked quietly across the roof-top reaching the edge. He backed up a few steps taking a deep breath of air as he ran across the roof top, making a leap of faith to the adjacent building.

"Ooof.", the boy let out a gasp of air as his chest slammed into the side of the wall, his fingertips gripping the ledge of the rooftop. He pulled himself up onto the roof, half-limping to the other side. He looked down on the couple he followed from the Inn.

He watched them intently, curious of the tiger's smile. He crouched down, his head barely poking past the clothes hanging out to dry on this rooftop. The two just stood there, still fondling eachother in the streets. Almarus cocked his head to the side, curious about their interactions with eachother. He put his hand down to steady himself, his body nearly falling over the edge.

The man was saying something, but Almarus didn't understand it. He talked like he had ice in his mouth, some sort of language that the boy couldn't make out. He had heard his Cimmerian friend say it before. It was probably part of something that only the Northerners know. Then the little woman replied in the same tongue. Almarus scratched at his face, clearly confused now. They continued to stand there, well into the night. The boy got tired, tired of watching them stand there and touch eachother. Tired enough that he curled up into a ball and slept beneath the dangling clothesline that night. He murmured to himself, a light snore escaping his lungs as he rolled into sleep.

"Tigers can't smile."

----------

The statue of Mitra stands squarely in the middle of the terrace, the overgrown branches tickling the top of her head. The boy watched as his father knelt before the statue, speaking in the old language. Almarus didn't quite understand just yet what he was saying, but he knew it was important if his father would bring the entirety of his army with him.

They picked up and marched. They walked in formation through the streets of Tarantia, Almarus trailing alongside with the other children. The whole procession, soldiers and their families, were quiet throughout. It was surreal in it's entirety.

They didn't march that day for war, or for parade. They marched in honor of the fallen. They marched because their Commander had lost his wife.

----------

"Handjob?"

Almarus stirred on the rooftop, the voice of a beggar waking him in the early hours.

"Handjob?"

Almarus wiped the sleep from his eyes, not realizing he had slept the night on the rooftop. His eyes darted around the landscape frantically, getting acclimated to the new rising sun.

"Handjob?"

The boy sat up, the red shirt hanging from the line falling against his face. He ripped it from the line, tossing it to the side. Had he really spent the entire night sleeping on this rooftop like he was homeless? He scratched his face, his mind and body still half-asleep.

"Handjob?"

He peered over the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the street. The last thing he remembered was watching the pretty little Stygian lady caressing the big soft-haired Aesir. But now, now he was looking down on a dirtied beggar on his knees begging passerby's, almost pleading with them.

"Handjob?"

Almarus was confused by the sentiment of the beggar, pleading with the myriad of passer-by's. He clearly needed a job, one that involved his hands. Almarus looked down at his own hands, stretching his fingers. He hadn't a job his entire life, he didn't need one. His father usually took care of whatever he wanted, but now that his father was gone, the boy was fending for himself. Good thing he carried around that brick of gold, although Fynres had told him to hide it.

"What are you doing?"

Almarus looked back over the edge. He didn't quite make out what the woman had said, but he was sure she was questioning the beggar. Maybe she would give him the hand job. The boy smiled at the thought, recognizing the woman once his eyes focused on her. She was a regular in the Stygian alcove. He couldn't remember her name, but he knew she was a packer of some sort. They always talked about packs when she was around, even though it didn't make any sense in context.

He stood up, in plain sight. He just watched the group of assembled people, including the 'Stewar-t'. They seemed very interested in these jobs that the beggar was offering. Almarus watched for awhile, before shrugging and jumping down off the roof.

"Oof.", he let out as he landed awkwardly, catching his footing and darting into the alley.

"What are you doing, little one?", the familiar voice asked.

Almarus turned around, a tigerish grin on his face. "Going fishing!". He paused for a moment, thinking to himself about his awkward smile. He shook it off, continuing to talk to the familiar face. "And then I'm going to find a hand job for that beggar."

The look on the Stygian womans face was everlasting amusement. A wide smile crept across her face, the laughter loud and echoing off the clay walls. She leaned in and whispered to Almarus, his face turning red.

"Oh, that's what he wanted?"

The woman nodded, the smile still on her face. Almarus' face turned a darker shade of red. He shrugged sheepishly at the woman, turning on his heel headed for the water.

"I go fish, he can find his own handjob."

[Maokhan]

Story Final: Silent Farewell

Chapter 1
“Do you ever find this amusing, that everything you have done at this point, betrayal of friends, your family, the slaughtering of your comrades, rebuking all you once stood for, and for what? To be shun and forgotten once your usefulness has past – do you see the amusement in that? To travel a dark path only to have your reward not to bear witness of a new beginning, but a prolonged misery of your incompetence; the one last deed of betrayal stares deep within your soul Anaxamada, dagger in hand, anticipating the closure of your idiotic crusade with the death of one of your closet companions.”

Ospiris’ lecture , heavy and full of heckle, pierces Brudi ears word for word. The two were the only ones in the make shift tent, the cold Cimmerian wind blowing from the entrance covers signaling a great harvest of frost soon to arrive. Brudi stares with the same glazed look he has held ever since his time in the border kingdoms, his hands and arms worn from the constant battle, warriors and gladiators would live for such battle stress, to the flesh, bone, and spirit itself. The ex-soldier stares blankly, showing little evidence in facial expression that he was in deep concentration of listening to multiple conversations; one from Ospiris, another from his past talk from Kaine, and himself.

Ospiris takes notice of his distracted appearance “ you truly are a conflicted individual, indecisive at that, but you cannot be blamed for that, simply mortality teaching you the ordeal of treading through the unknown, very few would be able to stick with one path and stay true to it..all this….. flip flopping, so childish.” The necromancer circles around Brudi, the dirty nails drag across the pale corrupted arm of the aquilonian.
Brudi breaks from his daze, “ you know, you speak plenty to make a point, do you put your dead back to sleep every time you mutter a word?”
“your position of being jestful is very limiting Brudi.” Ospiris digs a nail into his arm in response.
“simply stating the obvious, must take you to speak a whole sermon to a wench for a mug of ale.”
“come now Anaxamada, no fun to carry a conversation to a soon to be dead man if everything has to be so direct.”
“Life is short..deal with it”
Ospiris lets out a belly laugh, slapping the side of brudi’s arm hearing his response. “times like these I would give the sun and moon for the Tree of Irony to exist!”
Brudi laughs soon after, the two laughing to the false humor to on another, having it to die down in a slow eerie pause, a petrifying stare down between the two is seen with in the tent, the cold Cimmerian wind breaking against the tent outside.
“you should have used your precious wolf mother when you had the chance, hell..perhaps even join our ranks, she may probably even live this coming ordeal.”
The ex soldiers gaze shifts towards the outside tent entrance, resuming his previous posture of multiple thoughts playing through his mind.
“she wouldn’t have been happy..what point is there if one is not happy with where they are..or who they are with?”
“Tch..thats beside the point, she would be content once he experienced our power..much like you have, you were drawn to it, became drunk of the lust of dominance against those with ill will. You sought it yourself, to change the lands, we were the strong option for your goals – perhaps your calling yourself a liar?..in denial?” Ospiris shakes his head looking down at the aquilonian, his smile grows slowly waiting for his next response.

“from what I am hearing from you..seems you got me all figured out” Brudi exchange one last glance towards Ospiris, his body shifts from the corner, the rattling of chains could be heard from his movement, it is now obvious that Brudi was chained down and bound, unable to leave the area.

“We know where Briesse is, Once we break through the imperium defense in Fort Bane, she will be ours, and this pitiful War will be over, in the meantime, Sit here for abit, freeze , stab yourself, get eaten by Picts, whatever you fancy, we’ll be busy counting slaves once we open the influence.”

Ospiris leaves out of the tent, leaving behind the cold frost wind and dark shadowed surroundings of the inside itself, Brudi sits plainly, no movement or resistance, hearing the footsteps of the necromancer draw lighter and lighter away until no longer heard.
“Balance..right?” the voice of a female, d****d in shadow next beside brudi, well hidden and concealed if fully blending with the environment.
“from the beginning…It was all about balance..” Brudi responded calmly, the loud sound of iron dropping to the floor, his chains unbound and unlocked all of a sudden.
“Im sure Kaine will understand what you are able to do then…”
“You think so Miss Red?”
Red extends herself over Brudi, standing fully her hand in gentle grace hooks under his arm, pulling him up.
“Briesse knows of our plan, and our destination..we will only get one shot, only one..as for the trail, once the battle dies down against both acolytes and imperium, they will make a path straight to you..get it done..” red dusts off his arms and legs, and begins handing him his armor and weapons which she had with in a large bag, also masterfully concealed. “As for Kaine, like I said…when it is over, he’ll think nothing of it.”

“Ill take your word for it, besides…the world would be damn boring if there is no one else to fight..”
“To the field of the dead then..It is time to end it.”

[Maokhan]

Chapter 2:

The chill of wind wails against the mountains, hill tops and cliffs blanketed by the white queen’s scarf.
The battle still raging deep within the Cimmerian End Kingdom territories near Fort Bane, Legion forces meet head on against the Imperium Acolyte Alliance blockade as both sides clash with one another with a massive wave of bodies, arrows and steel. The defending guardians stand firm against the constant wave of legionnaire assault, their shields holding fast, being met with a volley of arrows, magic and other chaotic projectiles.

“Priests , ready! Advance!“ barked the orders from Almexia, heading a spearhead assault with a line of priests, and a second line of rangers to protect them from any advancing soldiers.

The skirmish quickly turned into a mess of red colored snow and burning meat, one daring footman charges the volley of range weaponry, his body quickly torn apart by the onslaught, followed with other men that were close behind him in the charge.

Yells and screams continue to fill the air and ground at once, thundering blows of the hooves of horses and mammoths crashed upon both earth and man alike, those in their way were crushed, or dragged helpless into the mass of scrambled violence congregated next to the Fort Bane entrance.

In greater viewing, mammoths and siege weapons attempt to force themselves past the walls, but with no result. Both Siege and Animal weaponry alike were quickly dispatched with large amounts of boulders from above, quickly dropped from the walls themselves; shattered bones and wailing metal bend in submission of falling earth above.

Almexia growls at the defiance, her hand waving harshly to the right signaling rangers for another volley of arrows. Rouen, not far behind meets up with the former Amazonian, an update of tactics was soon to speak from him.

“Fort bane, one of the hardest keeps to conquer, let alone break..”

“what else is new” muttered Almexia

Rouen tosses a parchment to her way, she catches it just as fast as it was thrown, her eyes skimmed at the update, crumpled the note, throwing it blindly into the wind.

“Its about that time”

“time for what?” Rouen asked in a muddled tone.

“For the mad man”

“mad man?”

“Mad man…”

“you mean..THAT mad man…?”

Almexia nods once, raising her hand two fingers pointing to the heaven, the grand signal itself has been called. Rouen quickly realized who she was referring to.

“That mad man”

A doubly large trebuchet is quickly hauled towards the center of the legion battalion, the package far from the usual flame and rock, extra packaged and twice the size than any normal munitions.

“Ready the damn treb!, distance above the walls..BOTH OF THEM!” Almexia turned around, her fist clenching at the operators.

“you know what to do.. get it done” she punched the side of the package, whether for good luck or malice of the package itself; or perhaps of whats inside. The package mumbled in return.

“Ready!..” General Almexia raises her hand,

“Aim!” the treb begins to bend fully back by the head ,the base starts to slightly tilt.

“Wait wait wait ..wait.waaaaiit..whoa…” The package yells out

“what?” Rouen raises a brow looking at the package

“I want some ale, and roasted goose..” the package responded

“The Hell!.....Ale and Roasted goose!” Rouen shouts at his men, a quick response of rations is sped towards the giant trebuchet, a small hatch is opened, shoving both items into the opening.

“Ready..Aim!”

“Whoa..whoa hold on….” The package responds again

“Shattered moons you ******* we aint got all day…” Rouen looks back again in glaring fashion.

“Joyeuse’s magic orange, and mr. snuffles..” the package speaks again.

“you had some lotus before the trip didn’t you, damn blond *******!”

“Ey, you want this job done right?”

Rouen glares at the giant packcage heavily..

“well…do you?”

“********….. MAGIC ORANGE AND MR. SNUFFLES!”

Some of the legion men look to each other, both having glances of if it was a serious order, not long Veslva quickly arrive with said items, running into the giant package to stuff them both inside.

“Mr. Snuffles!...aww…” the package spurs in glee.

“Screw this…” Rouen turns around snatching the blade from the launch operator,

“Ey..think you guys can fight a khitai slave girl in here, I need something play wi—“

“FIRE!!!”

Rouen cuts the rope, the package flying high and out over the
wall, far past the distance desired, the giant round mass hurls deep into the inner wall crashing just above, skimming over, continuing its travel right through the keep fortress, a barrage of stone and gravel explodes in all directions along with the package breaking in various pieces, the smoke is large and expansive, anyone with in the proximity both in and outside the keep fortress was well limited in sight, what ever it housed was some one that knew how to make an appearance.

[Maokhan]

Chapter 3

"find him! Find that blonde Sun na vah Bi**h!!!!!, now!"

Dust clearing and settle against the walls and floor of the tampered stoned, the hole still gap, penetrated by the forceful blast of the custom trebuchet, and its cargo'ed munition ball that it launched.

"Dont let him anywhere near the commander!"

Imperium guardians and soldiers scramble away from the destruction piled high, rock and granite littered several feat from the hole itself, as for the munition boulder, cracked wide open, contents empty. all except for a empty mug of dried milk.

Two patrol soldiers stayed behind observing the evidence of the mug,

"dried milk? in here?"

"whats that?"

The second guard reaches inside, noticing a crumpled object within the contraption.

"A cookie?"

Just by picking it up, a fine string on the end of the cookie is tanked, pulling back by his hand, with a sudden jolt, a large bolt shoots from the contraption, skewering the first guard in the neck, blood splattering from the back coating the walls.

"Oh Mitr--" the Second guard, shocked from the sight of his comrade falling from the booby trap, also is quickly dispatched by a flashing blade of a dagger slitting his throat, the cut clean with blood flowing, neither men unable to make a sound, death takes them swiftly in silence.

The bloodied dagger, quickly cleaned on the back of the dead corpse, the Assassin moves into the shadows, not without taking the evidence of the cookie with him away from the coming foot steps coming back to the destructive scene.

"Dammit!"
"There dead..."
"Of course you idiot! flush him out already!"

The commanding officer barks his orders, the group quickly breaks away to different directions, the keep begins to shake from the outside battling, giving way dust and mist of debris from above by near by trebuchet fire against the city outer walls.

"All this for a lady to end a war, youd think id have a say in the matter."
the assassin mumbles along, between moving throughout the keep from one floor to the next, coming across a another set of guards, patroling the middle floor, the assassin, waits for a moment, the same cookie in his hand, breaking one piece off to toss it across the room.

the sound is made in echos

"what was that?" the patrol guards look to the direction of the sound, just enough for the infiltrator to make a move.

at moments glance, the Assassin was already on top of them both, a snap kick on one knocking him off balance, and a dagger into the face of the other into the mouth for a fatal blow.

"Ugh!" the guard staggers , dazed, forcing himself to get back on his feet, he sees the assassin as clear as day, the last sight he will ever see again.

"i--it ITS Him, Its Scorpe! he's HE-" before his voice could be raised any higher, Scorpe shoves the cookie directly into the mans mouth to shut him up, then punching him directly in the teeth for good measure. closing his mouth forcing the cookie down into the man's wrong wind pipe, choking and suffocating all at once, a miserable demise for trying to alert the others, his arms wrapped around the guards neck in a direct submission hold.

"I hate squealers.." Scorpe muttered into the mans ear right before snapping his neck to finish the job.

"now..where is that woman..." Looking about, he skims through the area for a moment to get his bearings, memorized locations of fort bane placed in his mind begin to come back to him, courtesy of countless spies placed about both in Fort bane, and with in other factions.

"top floor....." he slowly pulls out a teddy bear, or rather.. mr. snuffles

"time for you to do your part..." twisting the head to the side once, a hissing sound starts up from the teddy bear, Scorpe sly grin shows something devious is about to unfold.

Rushing up over to the top floor, he knew that the very top would be well guarded, Briesse being some one hunted by various people, her importance was noted by the varied soldiers that stood by.

"that many...thought it'd be more..." Scorpe shook his head disappointedly, counting 4 at the door, peeking abit above the stairs, he slowly slips mr. snuffles at the end of the stairs.

"Come Quickly, Scorpe is trying to reach upstairs stop him!!" a imitated shout of despair bellows from below the stairs ,catching the 4 guards in snapping resolve and attention, without second thinking, they charge over to the stair way, in happen stance, not catching sight of mr. snuffles under them, ticking away with the hissing sound. the last guard, seeing the stuffed teddy bear, starting the shake, he pauses just a few feet away from the other 3 guards.

The teddy bear makes his first explosive impression, blasting in flame and shrapnel, a alchemy contraption of deadly craft that many would consider black magic, but in modern terms a dirty grenade.

iron and steel shrapnel expell freely, ripping both armor and flesh of the guards, killing all but one instantly. with the moment of chaos, Scorpe made easy pickings of the last guard, who was already wounded by the blast, the clean drumstick of a meal he had eaten mid way of the flight to the keep, is unsheathed from his back, he clobbers the guard repeatedly and with furious violence, he could simply used his dagger to finish him off swiftly, but he wanted to be "created". the last guard, deceased, his head a blood mess inside a helmet, Scorpe goes on his way pleased of his progress, taking the guard keys on his way to the secured locked door.

"well my sweet princess, its time for me to take you away"

he opens the door slowly.. "If it were up to me, it would simply slit your throat and watch you blood flow. all good fun" he chuckled in thought.

the door swung open, the view in front him of a dark room with scribbles on the wall in front of him. Entering the room, Scorpe looks about puzzled, Briesse was no where to be found, but the scribble on the wall held of clear and obvious clue.

"Dear Assassin(s) I know you all wish me dead, but I cannot leave this world yet without redeeming myself, im sorry if i disappoint you all...again
" Scorpe snickers reading the writing, his eyes look down seeing something that says P.S.

"P.S. to not leave you all empty handed, I left a very "special" Fat Goat, given to me by my friends.. Regards.. Brie"

Scorpe brow is raised, hearing the scuffing of hooves behind him, he slowly turns, bearing witness of the said Fat Goat that Brie spoke about.
The very same Fat Goat that crushed one of the legionnaire commanders back then.

However, this was not any particular Fat Goat..for it was the size of a Snow Mammoth. the Behemoth even included a collar with the name "Jojo"

"....How the hell she fit this damn thing in this room..oh..she's good"

And thus Jojo charges For a gore.